Mirror, Mirror
by BHS
Summary: Post-Rebellion. The devil has taken control of everything, but she can't truly control herself. A phantom in the mirror haunts her with words that she can't bear to hear... A one-shot that I was inspired to write after finally seeing the movie.


**MIRROR, MIRROR**

By BHS

Homura Akemi enjoyed brushing her hair.

It was part of her routine. Every morning after her bath, two-hundred strokes exactly, using the expensive brush. She always took her time, savoring the feeling of her silken black hair running over her hands and between her fingers like inky waterfalls, savoring each long, methodical stroke. It gave her so much pleasure… far more pleasure than it ever had before. Because now, her sense of touch was incomparably more vivid, more _intense_ than it was before… back when she was a Puella Magi or a human.

Of course, there was no real need to brush her hair. For that matter, there was no need to bathe, or eat, or sleep, or go to school, or do any of the small human things that she had done back then. If she willed it, she could remain perfectly clean and flawless for eternity.

If she willed it, she could abandon all pretense… destroy this façade of a universe and everyone and everything in it… except for Madoka. She could float with Madoka in the void, just the two of them, forever. Warm. Safe. Content.

But she wouldn't do that.

Keeping Madoka truly happy meant maintaining the farce, the illusion of her normal life. Constantly manipulating the strings, making the puppets dance and go through their daily routines. The Clara dolls could help with the upkeep, of course, but they were often wild and unpredictable, prone to disobeying orders. Stupid, horrid little things, causing mischief whenever they could get away with it… no matter how many times she destroyed one to set an example for the others, they would never learn.

So it was up to her to ensure that everything ran smoothly. And that included following a daily routine, though there was no real need to do so. That included pretending at all times that she was still human… and not the devil that had seized control of everything.

With a satisfied smile, Homura finished the last few strokes and set down the brush, examining herself in the mirror. Perfect, of course. More out of habit than anything else, she flipped her hair back over her shoulder…

… and that was when she saw it again.

Her reflection changed. The Homura in the mirror no longer wore a fluffy towel and a content smile. Her reflection wore something that resembled a gothic school uniform, mostly black and grey and violet. The only bright color that stood out in her attire was a red ribbon in her hair. And her expression… icy cold as a midwinter's night, she glared at the Homura on the outside with undisguised loathing and contempt, her eyes gleaming with hatred.

Homura sighed at her reflection. "You again? Haven't you given up yet?"

And the reflection spoke, her words low and seething…

_"Never,"_ said the Homura in the mirror. _"Never."_

The devil's lips curled up in a smirk. "It's pointless, you know. Completely pointless. There's nothing you can do. You're only screaming in the dark. I'm the only one that can hear you… and I can ignore you as long as it takes, until you finally melt away."

_"The mere fact that I'm still here means you'll fail,"_ said her reflection. _"You can't get rid of me, can you, even with all your power. I'm the part of you that still thinks clearly. The part that hasn't betrayed yourself, betrayed _her_, betrayed everything we ever stood for..."_

"You say this every time," said Homura, shaking her head softly. "I'm growing tired of hearing it."

_"I'll say it again, and again, and again, until you finally listen: you need to _let her go._"_

Homura sucked in a breath through her teeth. "That will never happen. _Ever._ Madoka's happy here… she's not lonely. She's safe. She's with _me_. She can life out her normal life, just as she always should have done."

_"You still don't understand,"_ said her reflection. _"It was _her_ choice. _Her_ sacrifice."_

"One she never should have made. I should have stopped her back then… she deserves better than to-"

_"You're a fool. This isn't about what's better for _her_. It's not about her happiness at all. It's about _yours._ Are you actually deluded enough to think that what you're doing is right, that you're her savior? You're not. You're a selfish child, unable to come to terms with the realities of life… unable to face what you should have accepted long ago."_

Now the devil's expression twisted into an ugly sneer. "Shut up."

_"She's not truly happy. She's only happy because you command it."_

"Shut up."

_"You've degraded her, reduced her to nothing but another one of your dolls."_

"Shut up!"

_"I wonder…"_ And now the reflection smiled… a terrible, contemptuous, mocking smile. _"Underneath all that power, all that madness… does it really make you happy? Having her as your slave?"_

The devil stood up. "She's _not_ a slave! She's _free_, she's _happy…_"

_"So you tell yourself. But deep down, you don't believe it. I know you. I _am_ you." _

"Not anymore," hissed Homura. "Go away. I'm tired of listening to this _prattle._"

"_Look at yourself… look at what you've become. Making feeble excuses to justify the atrocities you've committed. Trying to pretend you're not her puppeteer. Why keep up the farce? You and I both know that you could abandon it all, throw her into your bed and have her as you truly want her… and afterward, she would never know. So why not give in to that desire?"_

"_Shut up! I would never do that!"_

Another expression flitted through the reflection's cold violet eyes. It was… almost pitying. _"Don't you see? You already _have_."_

"_SHUT UUUUUUUUP!"_ Her eyes aglow with rage, Homura snatched up the hair brush and hurled it into the mirror… it crashed through the glass and the wall behind it, sinking into the void beyond. The mirror shattered, millions of tiny shards falling like rain, like tears…

The devil leaned over her bathroom sink, panting hard, her hair spilling around her. The walls, floor, and ceiling of the room flickered, warped, distorted, as if it were a soap bubble on the verge of popping… The cackling laughter of those damned dolls trickled faintly in from outside…

_No,_ thought Homura. _Control. I've got to keep it under control…_

Slowly, the room returned to normal. The laughter of the dolls faded away. All was silent.

Regaining her breath, Homura stood back up and flipped her hair back over her shoulders. With a thought, she repaired the mirror… now it bore nothing more than her own face, her _real_ face. Another thought, and the hairbrush was back in her hand.

How many times was it? How many times had the phantom of her past self appeared in a piece of glass, glaring at her, judging her, chastising her? By now, she had lost count.

The phantom had never prompted such an extreme reaction from her before, though. It was… mildly troubling.

But in the end, it didn't matter. Her words were only that, only words. There was nothing she could do.

Madoka was hers and hers alone. Safe. Content. Happy.

That was all that mattered.

Wasn't it?

**END**


End file.
